


Black Leather

by sockdrawer



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-06 06:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14051292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockdrawer/pseuds/sockdrawer
Summary: Cheryl wears Toni's Serpent jacket.





	Black Leather

“You okay?”

Cheryl startles at the suddenness of the voice, her fingers stuttering over the smooth leather of the jacket she’s clearly been caught examining.

She glances over to the source of the voice — one Toni Topaz, propped up on her elbow on her bed (well, hardly a bed actually; more like a couple of mattresses just stacked together on the floor) fixing Cheryl with the softest curious gaze.

“I’m fine,” Cheryl assures her, feeling a little embarrassed — not by the fact that she’s completely nude right now, not because of the reasons she woke up completely nude in Toni’s uncle’s trailer, but because she’s a little thrown by having unexpectedly been caught this soft.

She isn't sure what it is about the jacket that had called to her, but she had woken, disoriented, wrapped up in Toni (which wasn't at all unpleasant) and tangled in polyesters sheets (which was certainly more unpleasant) and for some reason, amidst the utmost calm of the moment, she felt restless — felt completely undeserving of the protective arm snaked across her waist. It’s then that she spotted the jacket, draped messily across Toni’s dresser, softly lit by the dim spotlight shaped lamp that Toni had turned on before they went to sleep.

Cheryl has felt the jacket before, of course — brushed against it while toeing that fine line of friendship, the backs of their hands tingling, thick leather grazing skin. She’s’ felt the weight of it, slid the heavy leather onto slim shoulders outside of school hours and away from prying eyes, carefully slipping the Serpent back into familiar skin. She’s even felt the lapels between her fingertips, tugged at the worn leather until the accompanying body came crashing into her, the leather cool even when the skin beneath burned hot.

It’s just a piece of clothing —nothing special— certainly nothing worthy of prose, but at the same time, it’s _everything_ — it’s the weighty representation of Toni’s loyalty, of her dedication, of her determination. It’s the reason behind the occasional bruised cheek and cut lip and subsequent “don't worry about me, Cher; just got caught in the middle of a fight.”

Cheryl knows that to Toni, the jacket represents family, represents something worth fighting for, and maybe that’s why it calls to Cheryl so vehemently; maybe that’s why she can't help but smooth her fingers across it so reverently, even now, even still, with Toni giving her that look — head tilted and eyes gentle but analytical, like she’s taking Cheryl in, turning her pages and devouring every line before Cheryl can even think of slamming the book on her insecurities shut.

Her fingers glide across the ironed Serpent patch and she wonders if she’ll ever be worthy of the dedication, the loyalty, the determination that she knows Toni possesses — that this stupid jacket proves she possesses; she wonders if she’ll ever be something, like this jacket, worth fighting for.

“Put it on,” Toni urges, so unbearably tender that Cheryl can’t help but push back, can’t help but create some sort of resistance against how quickly and effectively Toni manages to strip her bare and interpret every line of her emotion.

“Why?” she asks, sharp — less the Cheryl of last night who offered to just stay at Toni’s place rather than have Toni drop her home and end up locked out of her trailer and more of the vicious Vixen of Riverdale who terrorizes the hallways with her malice. “Got a kink, Topaz?”

“For a beautiful girl wearing only my jacket?” Toni asks, not even bristling at Cheryl’s tone; in fact, if anything, she’s amused by it, chucking Cheryl’s useless defenses away with a chuckle as she sits up in the bed, sheets falling to pool around her waist and God, she’s beautiful — lithe and golden, softly bruised where Cheryl had let her lips linger or nails graze. “Absolutely,” Toni admits, smirking, every bit as serpentine as her affiliation would suggest. “But,” and now she’s looking at Cheryl in that godawful, thrilling way again — that disarming, disabling way that’s enough to decimate any walls Cheryl could think to build, that’s enough to strip Cheryl right through to bone. “You’d be the first,” Toni confesses.

And Cheryl’s weak.

It’s not a word she’s ever thought to associate with herself before, but where Toni’s concerned? _Yep_ , completely, absolutely, terribly weak.

The jacket is heavier than it looks, Cheryl’s known this for some time now, but it somehow feels even heavier now, the weight of Toni’s gaze on her added to it as she tugs it off of the dresser by the collar.

She slips her arms into the sleeves, the lining softer than she’d have guessed as it slides smooth against her skin and the jacket settles, weighty but not cumbersome, draping low against her waist.

It smells like Toni — like an odd combination of motor oil and liquor and a citrus-y perfume that Cheryl will probably never admit that she likes — and Cheryl has to resist the urge to really tuck herself into it, has to stop herself from wrapping her arms around herself so she can sink into the worn out aroma of perfume still clinging to the jacket’s sleeves where they usually hang against Toni’s wrists. 

Toni’s still watching her, eyes roaming over every inch, slow and careful, like she’s consciously transcribing the image to hippocampus.

“So, how do I look?” Cheryl asks, impatient, _nervous_.

“Gorgeous,” Toni answers, with not a second of hesitance and not an ounce of uncertainty; she sounds completely awed and looks absolutely floored. “How do you feel?” she asks, shifting the sheets aside so she can scoot to the end of the bed, closer to Cheryl.

“Warm,” Cheryl admits because it’s the easy answer, because it’s the answer that gives the least away. And then, “ _safe_ ,” she concedes, because that’s the truth, because the jacket, much like Toni, makes her feel protected, makes her feel free in a way that something associated with the Southside —with drugs and violence and hardship— really shouldn’t.

And yet, here she is, standing naked, save for gaudy black leather, fraternizing with a Serpent, spending the night at Toni’s place (spine health be damned), and honestly, she’s happy — happier than she’s felt in the longest, so she confesses as much, the words sounding foreign from her lips but honest and vulnerable in a way she was sure she could no longer be.

Toni smiles at the concession, biting at her bottom lip to contain the force of her own happiness.

“C’mere,” she instructs, sounding soft, almost dazed, as she reaches to tug on the bottom of the jacket, urging Cheryl closer until Cheryl settles onto her lap and lets her kiss the residual confession from her lips until she’s tingly and sated and kind of sleepy and God help her, she actually settles back to slumber with the stupid jacket still on and Toni’s fingers splayed against her abdomen — a scene she’s sure half of Riverdale, her mother first, would probably have a heart attack if they ever saw, but she honestly doesn’t care because she’s safe and comfortable and happy and she’s still not sure she deserves it, but she has it, and she’s sure as hell not about to let it go.

 

The end.


End file.
